before you follow.
tag: jewel. not new to rp. nd/nsa. multiverse. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. strictly ic. ooc in []. admin is 27. gmt+10. mirrored lit. longer plots in dm or discord (tag will be selectively provided upon request). feel free to dm for plot discussions as well. WILL HAVE STRONG, POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING THEMES that are untagged, such as: violence, grief, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanism, homicidal tendencies, romanticism of death, and narcissistic/bipolar behaviour. lapslock. FONT USER. sporadic reply. prone to sudden inactivity. cursing and foul language are commonplace. will maintain f/f so please sb. DO NOT FOLLOW IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE MENIONED THEMES AND/OR THE MUSE THAT JANE IS. don't ask for the moon if you're not ready to give her diamonds in her weight.
about JANE.
before.jehanne amelia hwang-seymour. bali born, seoul based, full-blown former globetrotter. known hwang jane, the name she chose to introduce herself with. part korean, part british, part indonesian chinese, part japanese (her family tree is honestly a giant mess). youngest of three in an upper class family with her twin older brothers, both of whom she was very close to. growing up, most of her life consisted of moving between countries due to her parents' occupations and business. as her parents spent most of their time away from home to tend their respective careers, she spent most of her childhood under the guardianship of her brothers, to the point that she referred to them as "her fathers". her family relocated permanently to seoul when she was seventeen, and her parents separated just months after. following her high school graduation, she pursued a degree in psychology whilst doing music as a hobby. she worked part time as a bartender at Bar 1983 and later SOAP SEOUL because she thought it was fun. however, four years ago, her eldest brother passed away in his sleep due to an undiagnosed heart disease. grief estranged her and his twin, and in an attempt to cope with it, she quit her bartending jobs and chose to fully dedicate her time to music and building her event curation business.
after.boisterous, shameless, witty with a dash of vulgarity. makes friends with nearly everyone she's met. would never leave the house without some layer of make up on. believes that ghosts exist. her perfume rotates between iris, oud and bergamot, or musk, cedar and cottonflower. has an unhealthy addiction to gummy bears. wears jewellery on daily basis. knows a thing or two about staying sober, but knows more about having fun. extroverted, resident moodmaker, natural-born flirt. will skin a bitch alive if you're her ride or die. knows thai but is mad rusty with it. forgot how to speak bahasa altogether. loves coffee, good ol' somaek, cream pasta, cute pastries, thunderstorm, all things thriller, cuddles, jazz mixes with some fireplace in the background, literature, music, leather jackets, her many piercings, and mad nail arts. not a morning person, will be grumpy before her first coffee. have now quit smoking for four months. wants to continue to travel the world. loves everything luxurious. quite possibly is the ruler of the world but that's just the truth, no?
always.still has unprompted, erratic moodswings, but she's getting better at managing it. doesn't really need to work as her trust fund, inheritance and life insurance payout from her deceased brother koh, and continued allowance from her brother roh to fund her lifestyle. however, as someone who fiercely enjoys her independence, she continues to further her chosen careers in her own terms. still a rule breaker, still a sweetheart with tongue stolen from the devil herself. she's hwang jane; she's unprecedented and eternal.
about BRXNTE.
before.wrote her own lyrics and remixed her favourite songs as a hobby during high school, following her older brothers' footsteps (in which one was a poet at heart and one is now a world-renowned producer based in LA). uses the name BRXNTE as tribute to the bronte sisters. opened a soundcloud to archive her shit and got carried away with it. participated on one of the open mics on SOAP SEOUL on a whim during a smoke break in the middle of her bartending shift, and her socials and soundcloud blew up, with her covers and remixes started being featured on playlists and compilations online. started doing battles regularly and putting out mostly song covers remixed into r&b/trap, along with EDM remakes of popular songs. was asked to stand in as a DJ for a dance battle on one defining day. was quite known in the underground circle as part of the nonet all-women collective crew MADDENING.
after.has slowed down in her underground scene activities to focus on her DJing career. has played numerous shows nationally through music and university festivals, and also as guest DJ to landmark clubs across the country. due to former ties with the club SOAP SEOUL, she is now one of their three resident DJs. she also plays on private events, previously freelanced on request but now arranged through her newly established event curation business ADLV, which took her to the international party and nightlife scene. as she is growing her network in all her arenas, she has also released her first mixtape ASPHALT independently. her instagram brxnte_j is currently at nearly 500k followers.
always.widely known in the community for her fashion sense and style. lives for the spotlight. lost some and wins some more, so she carves herself a name in every scene because, well, that's where her name should be.
about ADLV
before.it all started with a friendship and strengthed by the bond of sisterhood. known as the centre of every successful party, the spotlight would always land on jane hwang, indira suansane and alessa zhou no matter the role they played in each event they stepped foot and had a hand in. having experience in co-managing themed nights at SOAP seoul and curating private parties for her loved ones, coupled by the fact that she absolutely loved the control she had over every aspect of what constitutes as her brand of opulence and a good time, jane's interest in event management took root and grew. when the fateful question arrived for yet another leap of faith, there was no other answer she could say but yes.
after.acme de la vie (ADLV), or french for 'peak of life', was born to curate the party of one's lifetime. from succesful themed nights in SOAP seoul and other nightclubs to product launches and private parties, ADLV is the industry wrecker of new-age event management. headed by three multicultural and multinational personalities, the all-women executive of ADLV brought creative visions to life worldwide. headquartered in seoul as their homebase, ADLV has been consistently praised by industry professionals for their transcendingly bold curation, record-breaking turnouts, and viral social media marketing initiatives that now becomes the new global industry standard.
contact us.ADLV official account. indira suansane, creative director. jane hwang, operations director. alessa zhou, marketing director.

abyss, light and shadow.03:43pmthe alarm rings for no bloody reason than to ruin the only peace left on earth. she will happily throw the fucking phone without two minds for the crime it's commiting. if only the piece of metal shit is made of vibranium... it doesn't help that her head is pounding, as if the boosted bass was transferred between the ear-shattering speakers and her brain in one seamless connection after the set was over.it may be the last maker's mark talking but we don't talk about things that will further irate her over here.at least her comforter is soft and she had the foresight of keeping her blackout blinds fully shut with only a sliver of nearly silver ray breaking through the darkness. it gives her a reason to lay there and watch the silver line move, taking a life of its own, as the world breathes outside of her walls.the room is quiet. the apartment is quiet. her ears reach beyond the doors, taking a life of their own.the silver moves again and settles, again. the shadow follows like moth to flame, black in its decisive, inevitable path. it's blurry on the edges. blinking oneself awake is an act that she practices every day because it helps to separate dream with reality.not for the lack of trying, of course. she is good at convincing herself.sometimes dreaming with her eyes open is the only way to fall asleep..05:57pmshe piles on more buttercream to her french toast, tops the visible biteful on the tip of her fork with a cut strawberry. the wiggle is genuine, because her brain recognises a good thing and it sends a neurological order to her motoric senses to affirm the joy from the bite. it is lovely. it deserves a hum, too.the rest of the table laughs, with a hand reaching to pinch her cheek. "why the fuck are you so cute for?" saeri eonni asked, to which she answers with a pronounced toddler-like lisp and a giggle, "because it's good!""look at us, ordering breakfast at what, 6pm?""the only correct time to have breakfast, obviously."because there are little things that are good, in a diminishing list that are good, where there were a lot more things that were good but now no longer good because there is no reason for them to be good anymore.but french toast and diabetes are good. strawberries are good. being with her crew is good. chasing the boosted bass in her head with vanilla latte and soyeon's cackle is good. listening to jihyun's latest boy trouble is good.not hearing quiet is good. her ears can sleep now..08:26pm"maybe if we can just move one of the speakers slightly towards the corner—"this club is new, manned by an old senior that used to work in bar 1837, but god she does miss having a fucking set working in order. this is not the first time that being a bitch is going to do the job, but she has to do what she has to do. she refuses to play a mediocre set where she has to settle for whatever that is given to her. she might probably level it down three years ago but she is not who she was then.three years a long fucking time to put on a fucking show.and where is gunhoo sunbae when you need him? typical. jesus.but being a bitch doesn't do the job, being pretty does. so she layers on the charm thick, adds another lilt close to a whine and furrows her brows ever so slightly, and asks very, very nicely."and the lighting, blue will be great. blue will work with the set, but we really have to get that speaker moved cause the reverb won't work otherwise. can you try for me? just a move?"of course, there are many things that she is unapologetic of doing and this is clearly one of them, because that speaking won't move itself to where it should be otherwise, but there is a twitch deep in her temple when a work was completed with a "maybe you should show oppa how you play your smart mouth next time" or a "want me to drive you home tonight?".or the most ridiculous yet, as the assistant manager whisper to her moments before gunhoo sunbae enters the main area with his signature belly-over-belt ensemble: "guess this is why we hire pretty girls like you, huh?"she has been told what her smile looks like and what it does. too bad it can't sharpen itself into a blade to slit unwitting throats open. rich, scarlet blood would look good under strobe blue lighting. she settles for the next best thing: a croon of "oh thank you, i will work hard today" and a mental note to nick a credit with some consolatory cash prize before closing tonight.three years. someone should be proud..11:59pm"ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?"the resounding roar from the dance floor thrums past the blasting bass, and the sea is a blur of faces with an energy rivalling a thousand suns."CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU. ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?"the reply is deafening this time, as if matching the crescendo of counts doubling, and doubling, and rising, and peaking, and when it goes to a complete silence,and when it permeates, taking space for a full fraction of a second,and when she lets the release fully drop with a twist and flick of her fingers,(smoke, dry ice, smoke,
shadow and light.
silver. black.
blue.
red, red, red.)it's manic.it's a shockwave rippling over an eruption. the ecstasy washing through her system at the sight of strobe blue on yards of glistening skin, the tsunami of voices from lungs so intoxicated that it becomes the carrying force of the rhythm she is riding -- they crystalise in her veins. an electric charge taking a shot of dopamine straight to the brain.it's destruction on the tips of her fingers.it's her crumbling pantheon.how good does it feel to be alive?.03:35amspoils of war in hand, she orders herself long island as she takes her smoke break after her set. the top 40 mix from the club's resident DJ still hits a wave among the college crowd albeit with less energy. she exhausted them well. it's an exchange of energy after all, living.she opens a new packet for her second fix, trying to convince herself that she does not need any dry whiskey today. the adrenaline still pulses in her chest, so she supposes that is why she doesn't really mind the extra effort from those who accompany the bar seat next to her and the lacklustre conversation they bring."do you play here often?"he said he was good friends with "the owner" of the bar, so he could absolutely buy her a drink.right."i should, absolutely," she nods with full conviction and asks for that dry whiskey. blue label, because might as well. "maybe you should convince the owner of the club to invite me more often."the gaze that takes her in from her head, down to her deconstructed halter top with mock corset ties and leather shorts, are as telling as the bartender politely placing her drink with more gusto than necessary. "thanks hain-ah," she grins, and downs the glass in one shot, then puts out her dying cigarette."it was nice meeting you, i hope you had a great time today. say hi when you come by to my set next, yeah?"the whiskey was a good idea. the adrenaline is still in her bloodstream too, probably, which is why she lets hain introduce her to some of her friends from university after closing the bar, all in various states of inebriation in a barbecue joint a few blocks away.and she lets herself argue on the psychological weight of a freudian slip with one of the postgraduates from the bunch, having an honestly good time.which is surprising.so again, the whiskey was a good idea.and she lets hain's-sunbae-joongi take her home and watch his ceiling blur in a cluster of stars, a laugh on her tongue as she coaxes joongi to give it to her like that —ah. (light in the corner of her eyes, a sliver.)there you go.(there you are.).10:51amthe blinds are still opened by the time the steam from her bathroom escapes with her exit, so she closes it with a yank and makes a beeline to her bed. her routine from then on is a robotic event in itself, but the mindless series of actions is soothing on its own.when she finishes it with a comb over of her freshly dried hair, she sets the hair dryer aside in its drawer and takes her faint reflection in the full body mirror directly across the bed. it's wide enough to show her the view of her room and her window from where she is standing, with an old shirt from a lifetime ago swallowing her up.there is a city outside her walls, living. she can hear proofs of it, muted but present, and somehow it's so jarring that she hears it and understands that the world is moving along its axis and yet here she is, staring at herself again. a standstill.there is no clock in her room, nor in any of the rooms in this apartment. whose idea was it? she doesn't remember.there is no use in hurting her brain even more because her eyes are already as tired as it is, so she crawls under the duvet and watches the window from the mirror, this time.reflection is possible due to pathways of light and shadow. sight itself is possible because of light and shadow. of spectrum, because of white and black. shapes. contrasts.and it's quiet under the duvet. maybe for good, this time. the whiskey was a good idea; helps her recall, and relive, and wonder, and fly beyond her room into another place where sounds beyond the door exist.dreaming with her eyes open is the only way to fall asleep.how good does it feel to be alive?.

where lost things go.
minds, like memories, are fragmented for a reason.

carved woods..by some otherworldly decree that is unknown to her, wood carving is apparently an accepted form of therapy. at least that's what jisun and saeri said. well, therapy is a paraphrase of their proposed "activity". which is why she is here, instead of six layers deep in bed under her trusted throw pillows in a well-air conditioned room, with a chisel in her hand and a slab of wood in front of her."why can't we go next door and do, i don't know, embroidery or something," she grumbles, fully intending to make life in this studio difficult for everyone else. to their advantage, being two of her best friends, they react aptly: jisun with a coo ('what am i, a puppy dog?' 'yes you are, silly.') and saeri with an encouraging smile, a pep talk ready to be shared. jane lets her, because a passionate saeri means that she will be grateful enough to take them out for good food afterwards."it's a good way to release some pent up energy! and it's meditative, because it's repetitive. all you need to do is keep carving with intent and you'll be fine!" saeri helps her into her apron and doesn't let up until she mumbles out a "yes mum".jisun, who is already looking at the display of things that they can potentially make today, calls for her to view one of the decorative plates. it's supposed to be a... mini bowl? the tag explains it as a sake cup, a whooping 5-7 hours of work for a beginner, and a 3-4 hours for an intermediate. saeri the intermediate wood carver of course chooses to come to carve one of her already made wooden... platter. she is unsure of what exactly it is on sight alone."i don't even think i'm... what if my nails break?" she asks, genuinely concerned this time, and jisun gestures to one of the many gloves readily available for use."why don't we try to make one together? it will be fun. it can be your bowl when you come over to drink!" jisun offers, linking her arm with hers. it is a ruse to keep her hostage, jane is sure.but. well. they do mean well. it's a guaranteed way to keep her not-home for seven hours, maybe more.the studio itself is opened by a foreigner, hence their availability for a class in the middle of mid-autumn festival celebration. everyone else in their collective crew has either gone home to their respective provinces or overseas, or in saeri and jisun's case, celebrating as a family of two.at times like this jane realises just how lonely it must have been, to feel distance created by love you chose to commit to, how it impacts others too."you better gatekeep it for me. literally nobody else but me is allowed to use that cup," she compromises, and jisun gives her the biggest smile yet. "of course. our kangaji deserves the highest tier of luxury treatment in the noh-lee house! right, jagiya?"she is so gorgeous. saeri, too. especially when they're together like this, standing side by side, it's a lovely sight and for some reason, she feels a telltale warmth behind her eyes. it's... she blinks rapidly, pretending to keep her contacts in check.this is the third chuseok they spend with her, doing the most outrageous things that will take nearly the whole day to complete. they don't have to invite her, but she knows that it's also for them too, this semblance of normalcy. as if the world continues to turn the way it has always been rotating as if nothing has changed from their own story ten years ago to the present.jane was all but an untethered balloon when she first came to seoul. it has been seven years. her head is still in the clouds but she knows valleys and mountain peaks to stay on, tree branches to rest on. that she has a place outside of the only home she knows.they sit on the same long table after a briefing from the staff explaining what to expect and the safety measures of their activity today. a chisel and a wooden block seems doable, after that whole spiel. somewhat. what jane doesn't trust is her ability to... well, do it."it's like when you make music. you pull on what you think is worth pulling out from the sounds you hear, right?" jane nods, because saeri quoted her almost verbatim, back when she tried to put words into how she felt about what was then was a mere hobby. "it's similar. you pull out what you think is inside here. it might not be pretty at first, but it's yours. and you can make it yours."jane considers the block in front of her, contemplative. "is that why you like doing it?" she asks, and saeri nods before replying. "teaches you how to be patient with yourself. don't we all need it?"she doesn't realise the strength of her grip on the chisel until jisun gently covers it with her own, thumb stroking over her knuckles. "let's try, okay?" and waits, again, until she finds her voice to verbalise her thoughts. "yes eomma."and with an impulse that is almost synonymous to her own name, "i wanna try doing it on my own."jisun only nods, accepting it easily and pats her head as she stands up to walk to the staff to request for a new block for herself.well. time to dig her own grave.and dear lord, it is laborious. the chisel scapes one layer of wood at a time. it reminds her of rolled up ice cream they had the other day. it's all done by hand, a repeated motion along with the grain. her wrist aches with the sudden exertion, but she keeps going.then she starts to count, legato on adagio.one, two three. one, two three. one, two three.time blurs as they work, saeri and jisun talking about anything and everything, asking her to chime in for a few conversation topics but otherwise, the silence between them persists. it's one that is intentional, purposeful.they don't talk about family. they don't talk about visits. saeri's brother welcomed a baby girl this year. she found out through an instagram post of a mutual friend whom she shared with him. jisun's old dog achoo passed away shortly after their chuseok meet up. the noh family decided to euthanise and bury achoo all the way in gwangju where her grandmother lives.what else is there to reason with? when you lose a family, you just...untethered balloon leaning against a barren tree branch in a beautiful yet abandoned valley. maybe the three of them were meant to meet seven years ago for a reason.love is mutually exclusive; that is the lesson they learn young. you can only hold so many cards close to your heart.one, two three. one, two three. one, two three.saeri's platter is apparently a paint palette. "i want to paint cherry blossoms when i get home," she declares, and maybe her smile is not as bright as she wills it to be because jisun leans closer to kiss her cheek. it's far from the corner of saeri's mouth, but it won't raise suspicion just in case. saeri would have chosen this studio, owned by a foreigner no less, for a reason, but some habits are ingrained.they don't talk about how it's september. saeri's niece was born in march. the instagram post from the hospital shows a blooming tree outside the window."and me!" jane exclaims, grinning, because that's what she is here for. both women laugh in reply. "you'll be front and centre. uri jib-e kangaji.""as i should.""as you should. but you gotta finish your bowl first.""ah shit."it's kind of wonky, so both saeri and jisun had to help her towards the end.by the elusive seventh hour, the sake bowl looks kind of like a sake cup instead. kind of. if one counts a leaning tower of pisa-esque ordeal as a possible structure of a safe liquid-holding contraption. jisun's chopsticks are much studier looking, and it's only two sticks with some ornaments on the top.but it's... jane looks at the finished product, examining it. "it's not bad," she decides, wrist aching, holding the cup for the first time with her bare hands. it will need to be sanded and varnished, to be picked up in three days time.it's not the prettiest. no one will buy this silly-looking shit even if it was on sale or given for free. she likes that it is silly. it feels... hers. it feels incomplete, because it's not supposed to be anything but.they don't talk about family and visits just as she doesn't talk about the empty rooms she would have to see when she gets home. of what last week was meant to commemorate. she might place this cup there, in a corner where dust will never touch, piled with books with varying degree of spine deterioration.good thing that her family has never been too culturally involved. she would have to put up a photo (two? at this rate, might as well go ahead and do it for both) and walk past it every day. to change the offerings every day, like what jisun had set up for achoo in the corner of their living room. that it's now her responsibility to keep someone fed and settled.but a cup would be enough. it can be whatever it needs to be. a door stopper if need be. don't they call it that, afterlife and all that, doors to fall into? they call opportunities as doors too."it's a good night to be stupid," she sings it to a random tune as they exit the studio and walk down the street to the bistro-bar jisun bookmarked earlier, walking in between the older pair with their arms interlinked."cause we'd rather be stupid than to feeeeeel it," jisun continues, using the same chord progression, the true singer between the three of them."and we... guys i'm bad at this, please," saeri whines, her reddish bob swaying past her shoulder."you're so hopeless, oh my god.""yah, i'm your manager for a reason!""no, you're the trophy wife. jisun unni is the manager and the breadwinner.""slander! i'm not going to tolerate this disrespect. i'm older than both of you!"jane throws her head back laughing, head tucked to saeri's shoulder as she continues to fight for her case.it's chuseok. the streets are filled with foreigners or stragglers with nowhere to go. it's a land of misfits, today. she is all the above. what does that make her?a sake cup. an aspiring one.she laughs and laughs until the burn behind her eyes passes, or at least until she can pass it off as an unfortunate byproduct..